


Intervention

by DangerRollins



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AKA the best form of suffering, AU where everything is peaceful and happy mostly, Alternate Universe, Carl's only form of suffering is having to deal with Rick/Negan being hornballs, Damn my tags are a mess, F/M, Glenn likes to eat, Judith is a peach, M/M, Maggie is NOT having it, Negan is Negan, No interventions occur in this at all ok bye, OH AND DID I MENTION CARL IS IN COLLEGE AND TAKING PSYCHOLOGY, carl is dramatic as all hell and 100 percent done, id just like to say the title has absolutely nothing to do with this story, some characters tagged are just mentioned, while im unnecessarily tagging things, y e t
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerRollins/pseuds/DangerRollins
Summary: AU where Maggie and Glenn are married, have a healthy, happy baby, Hershel, and an adopted daughter, Enid, and live only a few houses away from the Grimes'. Negan and Rick are newlyweds who don't know how to do anything other than having sex, apparently.





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what to call this. Not really smut, but mentions of it? And the title has nothing to do with what I wrote. There's no intervention of any sort in this lmaoo I just thought there would be when I was writing so I titled it that. Couldn't think of another name and also I might write another part to this which may involve a mini-intervention.

"I need to stay here for a few weeks."

Maggie and Glenn had been sitting on the living room couch watching reruns of 'Friends' and eating leftover Chinese food they'd ordered the night before along with the fresh pizza they'd ordered an hour or so earlier when suddenly there was a loud banging on the front door. Figuring it was either their landlord asking for money they just didn't fucking have right now or, worse, one of their neighbors complaining about all the wailing they could hear even inside their own homes earlier in the day, they ignored it, only slumping down on the couch more and turning the TV up.

When the banging didn't stop after five whole minutes, Maggie let out a defeated sigh and shot up off the couch, stomping toward the door and swinging it open, a scowl on her face. "What the fuc--" She stopped herself mid-shout when she noticed there wasn't an angry neighbor or an insistent landlord standing there, there was just a flustered looking Carl. "What the hell are you doing here so late?" She quizzed, dragging him in by the arm. Carl often paid them visits, claiming that he missed her and Glenn and even baby Hershel, but it was obvious he was only coming around so often for their daughter, Enid. The young girl and Carl had some type of weird...Relationship...Thing going on. Nobody knew what to call it. The two seemed to hate each other more than anything, but they didn't hate each other so much that they would refuse to make out with one another on the couch when nobody was around to stop them. Rick, Glenn, and Maggie all learned **that** the hard way.

"It's not late, it's only eight." He rolled his eyes. Since having the baby, Maggie and Glenn had...Well, they skipped over being parents and turned into absolute grandparents, in Carl's opinion.

"What are you doing here? Enid isn't home. She's out with some friends." Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and furrowed her brows. Carl narrowed his eyes as he glanced around the room, seemingly confirming that Enid wasn't there. "Why is she out so late? What friends? She doesn't have any friends. None other than Ron, really, and I **know** she isn't out with him at this time of night." He glowered.

Maggie rolled her eyes and turned away from him, walking toward the living room again. "She's got friends, Carl. There's a new girl she's been hanging around a lot...Can't remember her name for anything, but I met her once. She seemed nice enough."

Carl scoffed and rolled his own eyes, trudging behind her slowly. "You only met her once? She **seemed** nice? Criminals seem nice all the time. They're still criminals.--" ' **You should know**.' Maggie thought to herself. "--Where are they?" "You came to my house to question my parenting skills?" Maggie barked. "The hell are you here for?"

"Jesus, nice to see you too." Carl muttered as he plopped down in what had been Maggie's spot on the couch. He sent Glenn a small nod to acknowledge him before licking his lips and allowing his eyes to travel over the coffee table in front of the couch. "Pepperoni and sausage. Nice!" He grinned as he reached out to grab a few slices. "I need to stay here for a few weeks."

Glenn choked on his eggroll and Maggie's mouth flew open as she watched the teenager grab four slices of pizza and pile them on a plate that'd been lying on the floor. He kicked his feet up on the table and almost knocked over a can of orange soda, but he didn't, thankfully. They couldn't afford new carpets, couldn't even afford to have this one cleaned.

Sometimes Maggie regretted having such a close relationship with Rick. It wasn't often, but it was sometimes. She, Rick, and Glenn were odd friends. Rick was much older than she and her spouse, but they'd formed a nice bond when Maggie had first moved to King County. She was new in town, adventurous, and not at all afraid of a bit of trouble. Seemed to find it everywhere she went, really.

She was a wild teenager, about to be an adult, and she didn't care about the law. She was at the station almost every weekend, for minor crimes of course, mostly just misconduct. She and Rick had quickly become acquainted.

She was a thorn in his side for a long while, but eventually, he got to know her a little better. It'd been a particularly rough night, she was piss drunk and had been hauled to the station, only for her own good. She'd been traveling the streets aimlessly, all alone, and Rick's partner, Joe, had found her, brought her in and put her in a cell until morning.

Rick had gone to check on her before going home for the night. As much as he'd hated to admit it, she'd made an impression, she'd started to mean something to him. He worried about her, something about her intrigued him. When she wasn't walking around absolutely plastered, she was polite and respectful and timid and afraid. He figured after a while that there must've been something wrong with her. That she was only behaving the way she was because something bad had happened to her. He'd been right.

"My father passed away a year ago today." She'd admitted. He'd tried to get her to stop talking, as she was already gasping for breath after having vomited--Twice. When she kept on, he figured she just needed to get it off her chest. "Meant everything to me. He--It was cancer. I don't really know what to do without him, you know? He was wise and good--I don't know what to do anymore." She'd cried. He'd slowly opened her cell door and carefully walked in to kneel beside her, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm a mess. I'm not making him proud. Look at me." She laughed bitterly before spitting into the toilet bowl. "I just wanted to start over. Be different. Go against his wishes. This isn't how he raised me. He wouldn't recognize me if he was still alive. I figured if I changed myself, didn't go by what he taught me, I'd just..." She couldn't keep talking after that, feeling queasy once again.

She didn't need to, though. Rick understood. He'd been there and done that, having lost the mother of his children not long ago, he understood how grief made a person behave. He felt a bond with Maggie, wanted to help her and protect her.

Since then, they'd been good friends. He helped her get through her grief. He even introduced her to Glenn, the boy who'd been his neighbor for a few years. Eventually, she'd return the favor, introducing him to Negan.

Maggie loved Rick. He was like her older brother and she couldn't imagine life without him now. But there were times when she hated the fact that she was so close to him and his family. Now was one of those times.

"What the hell do you mean you need to stay here for a few weeks?" She questioned. "Did Rick kick you out? Can't blame him--"

"Ha-ha." Carl rolled his eyes. "Where's Hersh?" He asked, looking around slowly. Surely his loud banging on the door should've woken the kid up. Usually, whenever Carl came over, the boy was wailing loudly, showing nobody's ears any mercy. "He's spending the weekend with Beth. Quit dodging my question. Why are you here and why do you think you're gonna stay here for a few weeks? You're not, by the way." Maggie added slyly.

"I can't stay in that house a second longer." Carl shook his head. "I'm 19, almost 20 years old, and dad is insisting I stay with him until I finish college, and that's all good and fine, but I can't live in these conditions." He complains.

"What conditions?" Glenn chimes in.

Carl sighs and takes a large bite out of what seemed to be his second slice of pizza. He seemed to be staring into space, eyes glazed as a thoughtful look took over his face. Clearly, he was trying to find his words.

Maggie wasn't patient enough to wait for him to figure out what to say. There was a teenaged boy currently sitting on her couch, eating her pizza, thinking he was going to be staying in their already cramped three bedroom house. There was barely enough room for the Greenes. There's no way Carl could stay there--and even if there was room, he still wouldn't be able to stay. He and Enid in the same house? During the night? No.

"He being too strict? Too many rules? Curfew too early?"

"No." He shook his head.

"You two been fighting lately?"

"No."

"You just ready for your own house?"

"Yes **and** no." He sighed.

"Carl, what the hell is the problem? Why do you wanna stay with us all of a sudden?" She questioned, exasperation filling her voice. Glenn chimed in again after swallowing the last bit of his Chinese food. "Yeah, it's not like we've ever made you feel welcome here, anyway. And if we did, we didn't mean to." He pokes his chopsticks at the bottom of his Chinese container and hums disappointedly as he realizes there are only a few small grains of rice left.

Carl punches him in the shoulder before putting his pizza down on the coffee table. "It's hard to say." He sighs. "It's not just dad. It's Negan too."

"They fighting?" Maggie's eyes filled with concern. Rick and Negan had just gotten married three months ago. They couldn't already be arguing, could they? Well, of course, they could! They'd been at each other's throats all the time even before marriage!

"No, quite the opposite." Carl grumbles. "They're...You know, it's like they have their honeymoon night **every** night...And evening...And morning--"

"What?" Glenn huffs out a laugh that makes the side of his stomach cramp. Clearly, he'd eaten far too much. "You--You mean you're here because they're banging--"

"Shut up." Carl shakes his head. "It's disgusting. Every time I look around, they're screwing around. I'm terrified to turn a corner in my own damn house because I know I'm at risk of seeing them getting it on--" Glenn tumbles to his side, squeezing his eyes shut and laughing into the pillow. "--I can't do it anymore. You know how many times I've caught them just this week alone? Four. FOUR. You'd think they'd learn to lock a god damn door or **something**!"

Maggie tried to hold in her own snickers but failed as she watched Carl jump up and start pacing, angrily yanking at his long hair. A weight was lifted off her shoulders. Carl was merely being dramatic—Something she should've expected by now—and there was far less than a slim chance he'd be residing in their house for more than the night.

"They're just excited to be together, Carl. They've just gotten married—"

"No, no, no." He shakes his head. "They'd **just** gotten married three **months** ago. I was dealing with it then, I expected it, but it's been 90 days and they're still humping like bunnies every chance they get, and that is **not** okay."

"You're just mad you're not getting any." Glenn snorts. Carl sends him his signature icy glare and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well, I **would** be getting some if someone didn't find it necessary to hang around every time me and Enid are around each other."

Glenn drops his smirk and rolls his eyes. "You're not banging my daughter, Carl, and you're one wrong move away from getting your dick chopped off and fed to somebody's dog, just FYI."

"A few more months and they'll go back to how they were before they were married. Vanilla sex once a year." Maggie rolls her eyes. Carl's eyes widen and he shakes his head wildly, stepping toward her with a pleading look on his face. "No—You don't understand! They might've been even worse back then than they are now! They never stop! They go at it like wild animals, like it's their last time, and they've been doing that since they got together!"

"So, what's the problem now?" Maggie raises a brow.

"They used to be careful! They used to at least try to sneak around. Now? Now they're everywhere. They just don't care anymore! In the backyard, in the bathroom, in the kitchen. The kitchen table I eat at every day? Covered in Negan ass sweat, Rick spit, and other bodily fluids from the both of them that I don't even wanna think about." He hisses. "They're getting crazy and—I just can't take it anymore."

"So, what's the one that's made you snap?" Glenn grins. "All the other times you caught them you didn't come rushing to us at eight in the evening. What made you reach your breaking point?"

Carl sighs and slinks down into the chair across from the couch. "I hate to relive it...But I will. For you two. So that you can understand." He takes in a shaky breath as he looks between the two of them, serious-faced as it gets. Maggie resists the urge to roll her eyes. Carl's taking theater classes for a reason. "Okay, champ. You can do it." Glenn encourages.

Carl closes his eyes and clenches his fists.

***  
It'd been a pretty rough day. College was kicking his ass and he couldn't wait for Christmas break, but that was more than three months away. He was drowning in homework—Homework that should've been done weeks ago, along with fresh assignments—and he was tired from waking up at 6AM every morning for five days a week. Six, this week, actually because every other week he had to go in on Saturdays, only half days, but they still required him to wake up early as shit so they still sucked just as much.

Yeah, he realized he was pretty lucky to be in college at all, considering his grades in high school had slipped to an all-time low, and he was lucky that the college he'd been accepted into was one that he'd actually wanted to attend AND it was close enough to his house, only thirty minutes away. He was lucky that he still got to live at home, which saved him a shit ton of money and prevented him from developing a hatred for ramen noodles over time. He was lucky that his classes weren't late at night or in the middle of the day, too. Sure, it sucked still having to wake up early and go to school for a few hours every day when he'd assumed he'd be getting away from that after graduating, but he was lucky. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. He was lucky.

He kept chanting it in his head to remind himself every time he felt like setting his books on fire and flipping every single one of his professors off.

He was fucking lucky.

The moment he stepped inside his home was always the greatest moment of the day. For thirty whole seconds, he felt peace. He got to kick his shoes off, take whatever uncomfortable clothing he had on off, throw his books down and pretend his life wasn't a mess.

Then it was less peaceful. His mind reminded him of all the damn assignments he had to complete and by when he had to complete them, all the hours of studying he had to suffer through, and the fact that he only had a day to chill out and stay off that damn stupid campus.

He often found himself telling his own damn self to shut the hell up. The best way to quit thinking? A nap.

"Jud!" He called as he pranced into the kitchen. He wasn't sure where his dad and Negan were, but surely they'd hear him calling for Judy and know that he's home. He had made and stuck to a routine, lately. He'd come home, locate Judy, fix her a small snack and make one for himself while he's at it, talk to her about her day, and then he was free to nap for more hours than he should.

"Hey, Carl!" He heard her yell before she entered the kitchen. "Hey, kid." He grinned, ruffling her hair before heading toward the fridge. "Pudding today?"

"Carrots."

Really, how surprising could an eight-year-old be? You'd think they were boring, but nope. Not this one at least. She never fails to surprise the hell out of Carl.

"We've been eating pudding every day for three weeks and now you want carrots?" He asks in disbelief. She narrows her eyes at him and he's reminded of all the times his dad and Negan had scolded them both for that look. Something about looking like a bunch of uptight, unstable serial killers. Whatever.

"I'm getting pudgy." She shrugs. He frowns before moving away from the fridge and kneeling down to her height. He'd always known that one day she'd start questioning whether or not she was pretty enough and worrying about her looks, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. That being said, he's got his speech ready to go. "So what? That doesn't matter, Judy. You're a beautiful girl and anyone with eyes that work right can see that. You don't need to change anything about yourself for anyone. So what if you've got a little belly fat? So what if you're not as small as some other girls? That doesn't make you any less attractive. And it's not like you need to be attractive to anyone anyway. Me and dad—We love you no matter how you look, and we're the only guys that matter. You're not running around with any little boys on my watch, and we better be clear on that. Those little assholes—" He stops himself quickly and shoots her an apologetic look for his slip-up. "—They're not worth it. You're too young to be concerned about what they think of you, you're too young to be concerned about them at all. Just remember, Judith. You.Are.Gorgeous. Okay?"

She scoffs. "Yeah, I know. My school has a track team. I need to get on it. Not gonna do that by sitting on my butt and eating pudding all day, am I?"

And Carl regrets the fuck out of relaying his speech so fast. He wonders if it'll sound less sincere if he says the entire thing again at a later date. Maybe it'll be a long time away and she won't remember this little chat? He can only hope.

"Your school has a track team?" Had elementary schools always had track teams? "When did you become interested in track? In any physical activities other than playing just dance?" Had she always been interested in running? Should he be worried that she wants to run? What's she trying to run away from? Is this her dealing with something? When had he started worrying so much?

Oh. That psychology class he was taking. It was most definitely screwing with his brain.

He pulls himself together again just in time to hear her start talking. "I'm not, really. Who wants to run for fun?" She sulks. "But I have to."

He frowns. "Is dad making you?" He'd never made Carl do any after-school activities, join any clubs or play any sports. Maybe he's disappointed in Carl and wants Judith to turn out better than him? Is Carl projecting right now? Is Rick trying to live his life through Judith? Is **he** projecting?

Damn, Carl needs to drop his psychology class.

"No." Judith shakes her head. "The stupid gym teacher started the stupid track team because he doesn't like what we're doing in our stupid gym class. Says that playing with jump ropes and kicking balls to one another isn't good enough for kids who wanna be future sports stars. Thinks track is a good place to start." Carl nods. The gym teacher seems interesting. Maybe a bit bitter? Could be wishing he'd had more time to get into sports and pursue a career in them when he was younger.

Carl wonders if he can drop the psychology class right **now** or if he has to wait until next semester.

"What's that got to do with you?"

"Mostly boys are signing up for it, and this one little—" she whips her head around to make sure nobody is behind her before turning around to stare with wide eyes at Carl. "—Asshole—" She whispers, causing him to roll his eyes. "—Keith, keeps making fun of the girls, saying we wouldn't wanna dirty our skirts by actually participating in a sport. He thinks we can't run as fast as the boys."

"He does sound like a little asshole." Carl nods. "So, you're proving him wrong?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I know how fast I can run. He'd be choking on my dust if me and him raced, just the two of us. He can say whatever he wants, but we both know I'm quicker and I'm better...My friend, Jane, she wants to prove him wrong. She's shy though, and didn't wanna try out alone. She asked me to do it with her and I said yeah. I don't have anything better to do and making that little sour-faced turd cry is gonna be fun. Wouldn't miss seeing those fat tears rolling down his fat cheeks for the world."

Maybe Carl should be concerned about her wanting to make someone else cry, but hey, it's logical and he's proud, so, he'll just look into it later. Right now, he settles for giving her a fist bump and then turning to the fridge to take out the carrots. "Carl?" He hums when he hears his name called. "Can you help me with my diet? I need protein and vitamins, and...Potassium? You know, all that healthy mess."

"Sure, Jud." He grins. "We'll sit down later and make a list of healthy foods that you actually like so that it won't be too hard for you to stick to your new diet."

"Cool." She smiles.

They sit together as they usually do, Judith chomping on her carrots and drinking her apple juice and Carl eating two cups of chocolate pudding, slightly ashamed that he isn't eating something healthy too, but not ashamed enough to put down the pudding.

When they're done, Carl tells her to go do the homework he knows she hasn't done although she swears up and down that she has, and she stomps off flapping her arms around in exasperation, heading to do it.

Carl heads to his room, and now that he's not so distracted with Judy, he's a little concerned. Where are his dad and Negan? Usually, they ended up joining he and Judith for their snack, but today they hadn't. Maybe they'd had to work a little later today? Maybe they were out shopping?

Nope, the car was in the garage, Carl was pretty sure.

When he opens his door, he doesn't expect to find them, but he does. "Ahh!" He shouts, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes as if he'd been maced. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Language, Carl!" Rick hisses as he scrambles to buckle his belt back up.

"You came into my room to screw—"

"No!" Rick hurriedly shouts. "We wouldn't do that! I was in here putting your laundry away and—and—"

"And my dick lead me in here, found him looking all pretty putting clothes up like some kind of god damn housewife, and I figured the underwear in his hands weren't the right ones—He should've been holding his own—"

Rick elbows Negan in the side causing the man to grunt and hunch over. Carl squeezes his eyes shut and cups his hands around his nose, trying to repress a shout. Of all the places he'd caught them. Of all the places they'd done it. He'd thought for sure that his room was a safe space. That he'd never risk walking in on them in there. Apparently, he was wrong.

"Carl, I'm sorry." Rick apologizes sincerely. He blushes as he yanks his shirt back on and he glares at Negan as he notices the man still standing there, nothing on but his underwear, and he was in no hurry to get his clothes on. "Don't worry Carl, you've always got **just** the right timing." Negan huffs. "Nothing happened but some lips touching and a few hands roaming. Our dicks didn't even graze each oth—" Negan grunts as his side his elbowed again and he's sure there'll be a bruise there soon enough.

"I'm going to stay with Maggie and Glenn tonight." Carl all but whispers as he moves over to his bed in a daze to pick up his phone charger. "Carl—We're sorry, okay? You've caught us a lot lately and I know that must be—"

"Terrifying? Traumatizing? Scarring?" Carl fills in. Rick sighs and fixes his eyes on the floor, his hands on his hips in usual Rick fashion. Negan scoffs. "Come on kid, you could walk in on something a lot worse than seeing your dad and his sexy as hell husband naked. I'm the source of wet dreams everywhere you know—"

"Get out!" Rick and Carl speak in unison and it shocks Negan momentarily. He lifts his hands up in defense and slowly begins to back out of the room before pointing at the ground near where they'd been standing before Carl walked in. "I dropped my lube and I'd really appreciate it if I could get that back because trust me, I'm gonna need it—"

Rick grabs it and throws it at him before storming up to him and pushing him out of the door. Negan wonders briefly why he suffers Rick's abuse, and then he smirks as he thinks back on what they'd been doing just minutes before.

 **That's** why. Part of the reason at least.

"I'm sorry, Carl." Rick apologizes again. "I didn't mean for it to go that far. I didn't know we'd—"

"I get it." Carl sighs. They're just married, they love each other, all that bullshit. "I just wanna go to Maggie's house." Rick nods. Carl's always cramped up in the Grimes house anyway. He really could use a break, and Rick knows it. Plus, he can trust Maggie and Glenn.

"I get it." Rick nods, repeating the boy's words. "Listen—me and Negan, we're just getting used to each other...I don't know what to say to make this less awkward. All I can say is, I'll try to keep everything we do in the future in the bedroom— **our** bedroom—and only there."

"Okay, dad." Carl smiles softly. "Don't scar Judith while I'm gone, alright?"

***  
"You had to tell us all that just to tell us they screwed in your room?" Glenn questions, unamused. Carl ignores his attitude and stares at Maggie, nodding slowly, eyes all wide and scared looking.

"In my room."

"They didn't do much of anything." She tried to defend them but it's no use. Them kissing in Carl's room is scarring enough as it is, but being half naked kissing in his room? Oomf. "Rick said they'd keep it in their bedroom from now on. I'm sure he'll make good on his promise."

"Yeah." He grumbles. "Maybe."

"Look, you can stay here for the night, but you're not crashing at my house for a whole few weeks."

"I can deal with that."

"Good." Maggie grinned. "Now, that psychology class you're taking. I could use your help with something. How do you know when your husband is lying to you?"

"Maggie." Glenn sighs.

"He does this whole thing where he—He'll lick his lips twice, then he'll look down, then he'll look over my head—"

" **Maggie**."

"Could just be that he's got a few ticks, but I think he only does it when he's lying—"

"Interesting." Carl nods.

" **Carl**!"

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT EVEN IS THIS
> 
> Okay, this was supposed to focus more on Rick and Negan having sex in random places and Carl catching them and being freaked the fuck out by it because hey, what can I say, I love AU Grimes family where they get to be normal and Carl can be weirded out by the cute as FUCK Regan relationship, but then it ended up focusing mostly on Carl and I felt like I ended it in a pretty good way and so I might do a part two where I write it more in Rick/Negan's perspective, you know, they're all happily married and shit and Carl keeps popping up at the worst times. I'm making no promises, but it might happen.


End file.
